Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Interior Portrait



You don't survive in me
because of memories;
nor are you mine because
of a lovely longing's strength.

What does make you present
is the ardent detour
that a slow tenderness
traces in my blood.

I do not need
to see you appear;
being born sufficed for me
to lose you a little less.





~ Rainer Maria Rilke

 

Losing too is still ours



Losing too is still ours; and even forgetting
still has a shape in the kingdom of transformation.


When something's let go of, it circles; and though we are
rarely the center

of the circle, it draws around us its unbroken, marvelous
curve.



~ Rainer Maria Rilke
(For Hans Carossa)

Exposed on the cliffs of the heart



Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Look, how tiny down there,
look: the last village of words and, higher,
(but how tiny) still one last
farmhouse of feeling. Can you see it?
.
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Stoneground
under your hands. Even here, though,
something can bloom; on a silent cliff-edge
an unknowing plant blooms, singing, into the air.
.
But the one who knows? Ah, he began to know
and is quiet now, exposed on the cliffs of the heart.
While, with their full awareness,
many sure-footed mountain animals pass
or linger. And the great sheltered birds flies, slowly
circling, around the peak's pure denial. - But
without a shelter, here on the cliffs of the heart... 
.


~ Rainer Maria Rilke 


The Lovers




See how in their veins all becomes spirit:
into each other they mature and grow.

Like axles, their forms tremblingly orbit,
round which it whirls, bewitching and aglow.

Thirsters, and they receive drink,
watchers, and see:they receive sight.

Let them into one another sink
so as to endure each other outright.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke


Monday, November 2, 2009




But as all severall soules containe
Mixtures of things, they know not what,
Love, these mixt soules, doth mixe again,
And makes both one, each this and that.
 
~ John Donne from The Extasie
    painting by Oliver Hunter






  

Sunday, November 1, 2009

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

...
I do not love you as if you were the salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
...

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
...

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
...

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
...

~ Pablo Neruda

though love be a day




 ...



.
(though love be a day
and life be nothing,
it shall not stop kissing)

~ e.e.cummings

...